Citrus

Green apple smells like biting into a crisp Granny Smith—tart, juicy, and almost mouth-puckeringly fresh. It's not the sweet, candied apple of desserts, but something brighter and greener: imagine the smell of the skin and flesh together, with a slight herbaceous edge underneath. There's a clean, almost squeaky quality, like polished fruit or fresh-cut stems. It feels sharp and energising rather than cosy.

Green

Sage smells like stepping into a Mediterranean herb garden on a warm afternoon. It's dry, slightly peppery, and vaguely medicinal—reminiscent of the leaves you'd brush past while walking through wild scrubland. There's an earthy, almost dusty quality, with subtle woody undertones and a whisper of camphor that catches the back of your nose. It's green without being fresh or citrusy; instead, it feels weathered and wise, like the plant itself has absorbed years of sunlight and been slightly baked by heat.